


planes, trains and-

by cm (mumblemutter)



Category: Interpol
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot, Public Sex, Public Transportation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-02
Updated: 2008-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mumblemutter/pseuds/cm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The subway she is a porno.</p>
            </blockquote>





	planes, trains and-

After the party's over, they're on the subway and the train they're on is almost empty but they end up gravitating towards a corner anyway. Carlos slumps back against the cabin wall and Paul props one elbow flat against it and leans sideways, close enough that that his hand is just lightly touching Carlos's hair and the side of his neck with every jerk the train makes. Carlos almost falls asleep, wants to, but Paul keeps making inane conversation, just keeps talking about some girl he met earlier. Whenever Paul goes on like this Carlos tends to ignore the words and just let the sound of his voice wash over him like so much warm rain, and eventually all he hears is Paul's voice, as if that's the only thing tethering him here. Until Paul goes, so that's when I fucked her, which is when Carlos starts and snaps his head up.

What? I did. She was so warm and tight and sweet Carl, you can't even imagine.

He's lying of course, and Carlos knows he's lying. He imagines Paul knows he knows too. Paul's version of fidelity: So long as it's not another woman. Carlos of course, feels exactly the opposite way, so ironically enough the only person he's actually being faithful to is Paul, although how that came about he isn't actually sure.

Liar, Carlos says, but Paul only ignores him, keeps on talking, and his breath is hot and his voice remains low, again in that same nondescript tone but it makes Carlos shiver and he slides a look over, only Paul's not really looking at his face, his eyes are lowered, and he's smoothing his hand across Carlos's belly, right above his belt.

So this girl right, we did it up against the wall. I put my leg in-between her thighs, like so -

Like so, and Carlos has to shift to accommodate him or risk getting kneed. Muscle against muscle, he looks around nervously but there's only one other old lady in the train and she looks like she's either asleep or dead. Paul notices him doing that and smirks, his hand now dipping dangerously below the edge of his belt.

And I pressed my hand down on her -

He stops talking when Carlos brushes his fingers across his lower jaw, sliding it down towards where the bone meets the throat. Stops smirking too. Carlos knows exactly where to touch him to make it count. The smirk returns soon enough though, and Paul pushes his knee further up, so now it's tight against Carlos's crotch and Carlos is hard already, and he groans, he can't help himself, only he can't stand that look on Paul's face so he bites down softly on his throat, again because he knows exactly where to touch him, and Paul's head falls back or Carlos pulls it back with his fingers threaded into his hair he doesn't know but now almost all of Paul's weight is on him, just generating friction and almost unbearable heat.

Carlos says, What did you do to her again? and Paul fists his hands in his coat, pulls Carlos up until he's almost off his feet, and they're both scrambling against one another now, just a lot of attrition and harsh breathing and God Carlos is just this close so quickly the way he always is when it comes to Paul, and all it would take, really, is for Paul to - do what he does, which is to kiss Carlos on the base of his throat, open mouthed and wet and just the hint of a tongue on his rapidly beating pulse, and Carlos is there, Carlos is gone, and Paul laughs, quietly triumphant, and again that's all Carlos hears.

When he stops shuddering he thinks maybe he should reciprocate, should return the favor, but instead he just releases the arm he'd wrapped around Paul's neck and pushes him back away from him, helping him to adjust his coat and tie back to normal. Paul's face is red and flushed, and his eyes are bright. He's hard, Carlos could tell that from when he felt him pressed up against his thigh, but it can wait.

The train pulls to a stop.

Paul's still laughing, and Carlos is satiated and kind of drowsy now, and he doesn't move from his position slumped against the wall so Paul has to drag him by the lapels of his coat and pull him out of the train, right before the doors close.

It's Carlos's apartment again tonight, it's always Carlos's apartment on the weekdays, for no other reason other than it seems to have become a habit that neither one of them can be bothered to change, and even though sometimes they happen to be somewhere that's closer to Paul's place or Carlos's place, they still end up at whomever's place they're supposed to be at that night. It's a strange sort of comfort that he takes in the familiarity of it, and he almost wants to call it domestic but that's not what it is, not at all. or maybe it is and neither of them actually wants to acknowledge it because it might change things. Paul's blinking lazily at him now, they haven't moved from the platform and the train's been gone quite a while. we should go, he says, and his hands are smoothing down imaginary creases in Carlos's suede lined coat.

I like the fake fur, he says appreciatively, and if Carlos didn't know better he'd think Paul was sincere. As it is, he just grabs hold of one of Paul's wrists and they're off, up the stairs and into the streets, and he's only now starting to feel sticky and uncomfortable, but it's only a few blocks away from his apartment and they're there soon enough.

No time to change though, before Paul's slamming the door behind them both and pushing him down onto the couch. Beer, he says suddenly, just as Carlos thinks he's going to join him. And he's off, staggering to the kitchen and returning with two bottles of corona. He slumps down, finally, and offers Carlos his drink. Carlos isn't really thirsty, but he takes the perfunctory sip and waits for Paul to finish downing his before crawling forward until they're face to face, inches apart.

Paul's staring up at him, blue eyes hooded and unreadable.

Carlos, he says, sounding almost disinterested. bored even. You're kind of in the wrong position here.

He's close enough that Carlos could lean forward and kiss him, if he really wanted to, and when Paul speaks he can taste his breath, the copper tinged sugar sweetness of beer. He only places his palms on Paul's thighs though, and carefully slides down onto his knees. Sharp intake of breath, and Paul's not quite as indifferent as he likes Carlos to think he is, they're staring at each other for another full minute without moving until Paul breaks it to let his head fall against the back of the couch.

So this girl, Carlos says conversationally. I fucked her too. Blonde chick, right?

He doesn't have to see Paul's face to know he's smiling. Carlos likes the feel of Paul's belt through his fingers, likes the sharp snap and rustle of metal and leather. Likes it even more when Paul gasps as he tongues him through the material of his jeans and really Carlos doesn't know why Paul bothers with the belts anymore it's not like they're doing a good job of holding up his jeans - the hip-hop look that Paul's affected these past few months are wearying, to say the least, but at least the looseness means they're easy to tug down.

Boxers and jeans just past his hips, Paul's still slumped down, arms spread doll-like against his sides, and it's how he'll remain, the entire time, the exception being the occasional indulgent pat on Carlos's head, fingers threading carelessly through his hair. Until of course Carlos decides to stop playing and get down to business. This Paul should know by now happens, but his guttural swear in Carlos's direction still sounds surprised. Carlos only needs to look up long enough to see that his neck is now flushed all the way up to his cheeks, the hand not on Carlos's head clenched on the couch arm.

\- Yeah she told me all about you. Said you were mediocre at best.

Paul snaps his head up, and Carlos wraps his fingers around his dick and jerks, once, twice, and he's coming, and Carlos is holding him down, his other palm flat on his stomach to hold him down, as he jerks and gulps deep breath after deep breath. Oh, Paul says afterwards, when Carlos eventually rises, pulls himself up to plant a chaste kiss on his open puppet's mouth.

Girl's a liar, Paul says drowsily. I'm slightly above average at least.

Carlos only smiles.


End file.
